Page 72 of No Control

“No,” I scoff. “More like career criminal.”

Lydia nods. “I won’t press.”

“You can press,” I tell her, eyeing the scab on her neck where I cut her. It makes me feel guilty—and aroused. Talk about complicated. I don’t want to hurt her. I might not be able to manifest love, but I can try not to fuck her up.

Which I’m clearly doing a terrible job of.

“Okay, so where did you live? What was your childhood like?”

“Can’t you ask me anything else?” I grumble as I pull up to the large, wrought iron gate and roll down the window.

“You said I could press. I’m pressing.”

Rolling my eyes, I punch the code in and watch as the gate lurches. Cher doesn’t get out much, and I don’t blame her for it. I take a deep breath as I drive through the opening, and then stop to wait for the gate to close.

“My dad dealt drugs. Left my family when I was four or five—Cher was a baby. My mom remarried…” My body tenses as I think about it, and I white knuckle the steering wheel. “He, uh, wasn’t a great guy.”

“I see.” Lydia grows quiet.

“They both passed away when I was sixteen.”

Her brows crease. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” I shift my attention from navigating the rough driveway. I look over to her, but her gaze is focused outside of the car, taking in the Douglas Firs and Pines.

And the view is breathtaking.

Her eyes are wide, lips slightly parted as she drinks in the view in a part of the world I don’t think she’s ever been. My heart stumbles and flips over itself, and I place my hand on my chest. Maybe she’s giving me a heart attack.

The two-story log cabin appears as we reach the top of the steep climb, and I hit the garage door opener attached to the visor of my jeep. I keep it at the airport and use it when I fly into town.

“This is beautiful.” Lydia draws a deep breath. “I live in a log cabin, too.” She smiles brightly, her eyes still sparkling as they meet mine. “It’s not nearly this big, though.” Her cheeks blush a deep crimson hue, and I can’t stop myself.

I kiss her.

A light moan slips from her mouth as I bite down on her bottom lip, but I don’t do it hard enough to draw blood—not now. She threads her fingers through my hair, sending a rush of arousal through my veins. If I’d been a crazed sex-hungry teenager, I’m pretty sure this is how it would’ve gone.

I break the kiss, and then push open the driver’s side door. “Come on. She knows we’re here already.”

“Cameras?”

“Loads of them,” I answer, gesturing for her to join me. There’s only one hiccup with this whole plan, and as I swing the garage door open, it unveils itself.

“What the heck are you doing here?” Cher raises a dark brow, her pale skin looking as ghostly as ever.

“Good to see you, too, sis.”

But she ignores me. Cher peers around me, her eyes widening as she catches sight of Lydia helping the dog out of the car. “What…What is this?”

“That’s Lydia Waters,” I answer her. “And Duke.”

“Why are you bringing strangers to my house, Henry?”

I purse my lips, tempted to correct her but relent. “She’s my…Um…She’s…”

Fuck. What is she? My soul.

“Holy. Shit.” Cher nearly squeals. “You have a girlfriend? And she looks normal? What madness is this?” She shoves me to the side, rushing to Lydia.

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